black luck
by downhills
Summary: "He's told himself so many lies that his luck must be black now, not even gray, and most definitely not white." —Some of Haymitch's thoughts in the arena. HaymitchMaysilee.


_black luck_

"He's told himself so many lies that his luck must be black now, not even gray, and most definitely not white." —Some of Haymitch's thoughts in the arena. HaymitchMaysilee.

* * *

He's made a resolve not to lie ever again. Ever. Or swear, or disobey the authorities, or break the law, or even hate anyone. Although that last one is going to be hard. He thinks, maybe, if he's really, really good, karma will be nice to him and let him get out of this alive.

Notice, however, that he doesn't make a resolve that he won't kill anyone. Because he's not stupid; he's watched enough Games to know that nobody gets out alive without killing somebody. And he's lived in the Seam for long enough to know that, when the time comes, morals and friendships get thrown out the window. It's a dog-eat-dog world, and every man for himself. Which reminds him…

He turns around, and there she is as always, Maysilee Donner, _still_ watching his back. He knows he has to end this alliance. Soon. But every time he tries (and he's tried twice now), he takes one look at her beautiful face and can't. But still he tries again.

"You know, there are only five of us left in the arena," he says.

She notices the fact that he's avoiding her eyes and automatically knows something's up. But she only raises her eyebrows and says, "So what?"

And she forces him to look her in the eye, and when he gets that shock of blue, his courage fails. "Nothing. I just thought it was, you know, interesting that both District Twelve tributes made it this far."

Which is a lie, he doesn't find it interesting at all. He can pretty much feel his luck going from white to gray. Great. Gray luck is tricky. It doesn't help that he feels like an absolute coward. He knows he has to end this. And soon.

But he can't bring himself to say goodbye to her.

"Where are we going, anyways?" asks Maysilee.

"I told you, to the end of this arena," he snaps. He doesn't mean to snap, but he's frustrated. Stupid feelings of love. Suddenly, Livie's face flashes into his head, and he feels guilty. _I don't love her like _that_, Livie. Not like I love you. But she's special to me, and I don't want to part with her_.

Which is just another lie.

They just walk on for a while, until they reach a dusty, rocky cliff that is apparently the end of this arena. He looks down at it. At first glance, it looks like nothing. It's just a cliff. Below, you can see several jagged rocks. But haven't the Gamemakers already proven several times that, in this arena, nothing is ever as it seems? He observes it carefully, trying to find out what's so special about this cliff.

Near him, Maysilee tells him in a skeptical, slightly fed-up voice that they should leave.

_Do it. Now_, orders his logical side. _Break the alliance off! _

Instead, he tells Maysilee that he's staying near the cliff.

_Well, what are you waiting for? If you don't do it now, then you'll end up having to kill her! You don't want to do that, don't you now?_

So he turns around to face her and gets another shock of blue. It's lovely, sky light and airy, and endless. He's never seen the ocean before, but this must be how it looks. Right now, it's calm, but he's seen times when it's dark and stormy. And there's so much _depth _to it. It's almost as if he's drowning in her eyes.

But he _has _to stop thinking like that! _I don't love her, I don't love her, I don't love her_, he chants to himself, over and over again. _So hurry up and break off this stupid alliance!_

He can't do it. He'll throw himself off this stupid cliff if he has to. If that's what it'll take for her to win. He'll stick with her until the end, and protect her, and then he'll throw himself off this cliff so that Maysilee can win.

But Maysilee has other plans. "All right. There's only five of us left. May as well say goodbye now, anyway. I don't want it to come down to you and me," she says.

His heart is stunned, adamant, and overprotective, but his logical side takes over and says, "Okay." And he doesn't even watch her walk off, because he doesn't care.

Another lie.

Moments later, he hears her scream.

Everything gets blurry after that. All he can focus on is the fact that she's dead. She dies with her eyes wide open and his hand on hers. He looks into those ocean-blue eyes, once so lively and beautiful, now hollow and empty.

Not that he cares, right? He never loved her. She was just another tribute, just somebody else that needed to die. He never loved her, ever.

By now, he's told himself so many lies that his luck must be black now, not even gray, and most definitely not white. Karma's going to get back at him for all these lies, but he doesn't care. His heart has been locked away, and right now his survival instincts are taking over. He's going to win this thing, with no heart and love and stupid Maysilee to stand in his way. He's going to win.

He laughs, a broken, sadistic laugh, because he knows that it is just another lie.

Even if he does get out of this arena alive, there's no way he's going to have won.

* * *

Something I wrote in June 2012 that I found in my archives. I don't think it's very good, but I hope you liked, and please review. c:


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